


Coven

by KaraArgent



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Everyone is different, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, I'm a terrible person, Isaac loves singing, Jackson is a douchbag, Multi, So many more tags, Spells & Enchantments, Stiles Feels, Threesome - F/M/M, Voodoo, Witch Scott McCall, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Witches, can't get pregnant, different families, everyone else is teen wolf, hunter lydia, only a couple cast from AHS, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaraArgent/pseuds/KaraArgent
Summary: The exceptional young witches at Miss Robichaux's Academy are under assault by forces of ignorance and hate. Caught in the turmoil is new the arrival, Scott, who harbors a terrifying secret of his own. Chris, a Supreme Witch with unimaginable powers, is determined to protect the Coven, but his obsessive quest for immortality will lead him to cross paths with a formidable voodoo king and a murderous slave owner cursed with eternal life.





	1. Coven

This is my first American Horror Story and Teen Wolf fan fiction that I'm writing. I had been re-watching American horror story and I couldn't help but see a little bit of Stiles in Cordelia, and Scott in Zoe, so I decided to go with it. I actually wasn't going to even write this fic because of how racist season three had been. I can't stand racial slurs or any discrimination to people in general, so I tried to avoid racist things even though it was a big part of this season. I'm sorry if this is too much in anyway, because it kind of was for me. But, either way, I hope you all enjoy, and please give me feed back.


	2. Prologue

New Orleans, 1834

 

 

Deep within the heart of New Orleans in the notorious house of Theo Raeken, one filled with horrors that one could only dream of, there was a party going on. One where the man of the house was trying his best to give away his beautiful daughters so that they could be wed, or at least one of them could, but he should have known it would only end in blood.

 

"Gentlemen, I want you to meet my daughters." Theo said, a kind smile on his face handsome as he looked over to his girls, introducing each one from where he was standing. "Marie Louise Pauline," he gestured to his daughter in the lovely deep green dress who smiled politely. "Marie Louise Jeanne," he moved to the one sitting closest to where he was, her dress a silky cream color as she smiled.

 

Theo's smile faltered slightly as he turned to his most beautiful daughter, the one that he knew would be most likely to cause the majorities of the problem this evening. It was why she was the oldest and still had yet to be married.

 

"And from my first marriage, Marie Delphine Lopez." His first wife's death was no accident, but who would question a man with good fortune and a respected name in times like these. "But everyone calls her Borquita."

 

Marie Delphine smiled, tipping her head to the men who her father was introducing her to, and no one missed as the eyes roomed over her smooth lilac dress, but she felt no less comfortable like her sisters would.

 

"What they may lack in outer beauty, they more than make up for with their many talents." Theo went on, gaining the men's attention again.

 

Sure, his girls may be beautiful, but the weren't the prettiest of all the woman. And some men might just want someone to be around the house, not to show off. They should be prepared for anything. "Pauline is a huge help to my wife Tracey with the domestics. While Jeanne excels in petit point. My oldest, Borquita... well, her major talent has yet to reveal itself."

 

Borquita smiled coyly, her eyes staring past the men though they didn't seem to notice. "Perhaps my talent is in the boudoir, father."

 

Theo glared at his daughter silently, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure. He smiled though it was strained, looking away from his children and to the men who didn't seem to notice anything wrong. "I guess we'll find out on your wedding night, mon petit."

 

As the conversation went on Borquita tuned it out, her eyes only for one man. The butler who was holding a tray filled with glasses of champagne met her eyes and she smirked lightly when he quickly looked away.

 

 

                                             ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Later after the party was finished Theo sat in his room in front of his mirror. There was a small scar over the left side of his cheek when his first wife had tried to stop him from gutting her. But she had failed miserably, because not a moment later he had watched the blood and the life drain from her very being. She talked to much, and it wasn't something that he necessarily like.

 

He sighed, carding his finger's through his caramel brown hair. He then removed the lid to a small silver canister, then liquid inside a dark thick and rich red.

 

He stared at his reflection, at his dark eyes and tan complexion. He wasn't old, not really, he had just turned 40 three months ago. But he felt it, and in hard times, he looked it.

 

That's why he had found a method to make himself seem younger. One that involved death, of course. But it acquired blood to be covering his skin. And it worked.

 

Theo grabbed a cloth, dipping it into the canister of blood and brought it to his face, wiping it down his right cheek, then his left. He dipped it back in before bringing the cloth under his chin and bringing it up his face, ignoring the sound of foot steps sounding as they came toward his room.

 

"Theo," his wife Tracey said, entering his room, her face etched with fear as he didn't bother to look at her.

 

"When the blood dries, my skin is supposed to be tight as a drum." He said calmly to her as he continued to apply it, seeing her shaking hands in the reflection of his mirror, her face still young and beautiful. "Just look at it."

 

He had married her not three month's after his first wife died, right when she was eighteen, and now she had two daughters who were her own that were now that same age.

 

Theo brought the canister to his nose, smelling the blood as his dark eyes narrowed. "This blood's not fresh," he set the canister and the cloth down to call out to his oldest. "Borquita!"

 

He glared at his wife, his words slipping into his native language as he spoke to her in french. "Ce qui ne va pas avec vous?"

 

Tracey held his eyes, her own wide but he could see the way that she was scared. And upset. "Theo, something's happened during the dinner party."

 

Theo stared at her for a moment, his eyes taking on a darker edge as she explained to his that oldest his daughter had slept with one of their butler's. Or she almost had.

 

He got up, moving quickly as he shoved past her and made his way across the large house, Tracey sputtering nonsense behind him as she followed closely. When he glared back at her she shut up quickly and stuck close, her eyes cast down.

 

Once they reached the room Tracey stopped and Theo approached Borquita, eyes filled with rage as he smacked her straight across the face. "Stupid slut!" He backhanded her too, watching as she collapsed into the chair behind her tears in his eyes, her face reddening as he crowded her. "I invite all the eligible bachelors just to meet you, and you spread your filthy legs for the houseman!" He smacked her again, and she cried out, but he was too enraged to even try to care.

 

He gestured to the man he was speaking of, and the man whimpered as Tracey held him by the shackles around his wrists. "You might as well rut with the family dog!"

 

Borquita glared up at him, holding the side that was in more pain as she sneered. "You can't control me, father."

 

Theo smacked her again, harder than the other times because he wasn't one to be played with, and no one was gonna talk back to him in his own home. "The hell I can't! The hell I can't!" He grabbed her face in his harsh grip, barely his teeth as he held her so she couldn't move. "You know what we're gonna say? We're gonna say he took you by force. Like the savage he is."

 

This wasn't a time where colored people were greatly respected, and Theo was always one to take his advantages. It made him a terrible bastard, but he could give two shit's. And everyone else was the exact same.

 

The houseman shook his head frantically as Borquita barely spared him a glance to glare at her father who let go of her but was still in her face. "No, sir, I did no such thing."

 

But Theo ignored him as he glared daggers down at his daughter, nodding with narrowed eyes. "Yes. That's what happened."

 

"No, no. Miss Borquita came on to me." The man said with an urgency, and Tracey pulled on the shackles, trying to silence him so her husband wouldn't be more upset, but it was a given either way. "A-and I told her, I belong to someone else."

 

Theo rolled his eyes with a sigh, looking at his daughter in disgust. "Keep that mongrel quiet!"

 

Tracey flinched even though Theo never looked at her and hit the houseman in the back of the head with a thin and small metal pole, trying to block out the way he cried out as he fell to his knees.

 

Theo and Borquita glared at each other for a moment before he looked to his wide eyed wife. "Haul him upstairs."

 

To where the real fun happened.

 

Borquita's eyes widened as she looked to the man and his eyes widened in terror as he cried out. "No. No. No!"

 

Way upstairs was what his family liked to call his "torture chamber", but he liked to think of it as his home away from home.

 

There were torches lining the wall and wooden cages hanging low to the ground from the ceiling, each filled with something that he had... created. Sure, most of them were filled with colored people, but others had white people too. He discriminated all color's, it was just now were that their race was being hated, so he went with it.

 

Many of the people cowered in fear when Theo entered, and he smirked, Tracey trailing a few feet behind him. "Bonsoir, my pets. Did y'all miss me?"

 

There was a muffled scream that made Tracey flinch closer to him, coming from a man in one of the cages who's eyes and mouth had been sown shut tight, trashing in his cage.

 

She hadn't married a good man, she had known that before her and Theo had wed. But if she knew the things she did now, she would have hightailed it or refused. But she had children now, and she couldn't leave them alone with him. So she'd take the beatings and terrible, terrible arguments and the way that he was. She'd do it for them.

 

"Hush up." Theo sneered at the man, his lips curled back. "Or I'll rip your lips open and stuff more shit in there."

 

The man moved back quietly, though it only made the other's grow louder as Theo stalked past with his wife behind.

 

"Why?" Another man asked, seeming perfectly fine despite the way he was shaking even with a sweat breaking out across his skin. "Why are you doing this to us?"

 

"Because I can," Theo grinned, the candle in his hand giving his face a terrifying glow as he chuckled and moved past. Tracey said nothing, staring at her feet, her heart hammering in her chest.

 

Theo looked over to one of his latest works, the man's face peeled back but not pulled off with several maggots on the open flesh as he groaned. "Oh, merde. Now we gonna have flies up here."

 

From the very end of the room the houseman from not twenty minutes ago thrashed in his chains, his arms suspended high on each side off him, his body pressed back against a podium.

 

Tracey moved up ahead, making sure the chains were tight enough for Theo's liking before turning to him. "That should do it."

 

Theo ignored her all together, staring at the houseman with hard eyes. "Bastien, you wanna rut like a beast, then we're gonna treat you like one."

 

Bastien sobbed, his face battered with blood and swollen as Theo stood in front of him. Theo then turned to Tracey, "Where's my pickaninny with the head?"

 

He turned at the slow patter of small feet, turning to the young boy who walked into the room, carrying a large bull's head by the tusks. Theo smiled darkly, gesturing for him to come along as Bastien whimpered, and Tracey placed a stepping stool for the boy to get on.

 

The houseman groaned loudly as Theo stepped back to let the boy by. "Put it on him."

 

The young boy glanced to Theo when the man started yelling, seeming to not be all there before he stepped up onto the stool, and Tracey barely managed to keep a straight face.

 

The boy lifted the bull's head high, his hands shaking slightly as he met the man's eye, the other sealed shut and swollen as he thrashed. He looked away, focusing on his hands so they didn't slip as he placed the bull's head on his, his screams muffled beneath it as the boy stepped down quickly. He moved quickly when Theo waved him away, disappearing out of the dark room as Theo stared at Bastien.

 

"Darling," Tracey managed, swallowing the bile that wanted to escape her mouth as she blinked a few times. "You have out done yourself. However did you think this up?"

 

Theo grinned, looking down at his wife as he slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "My great literacy began with Greek mythology," he said, looking between her and Bastien. "My father would read me those stories, full of their vengeful gods and wondrous, miraculous creatures."

 

He focused his stare back on the thrashing man before them, eyes wide as he stared with joy. "But the Minotaur was always my favorite." He looked Bastien up and down, smirking as the houseman began to break into hysteria's from beneath the bull's head. "Half man, half bull. And now... I have one of my very own."

 

Muffled shouts and screams came from Bastien from behind the bulls head as he thrashed on display, blood dripping down his body from where the head had been cut off and Theo's eyes gleamed with darkness.

 

 

                                                                 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. Genetic Afflictions and New Arrivals

Present

 

  
Two people walked up to a house, a boy and a girl with the guy in lead as they moved hand in hand. The guy unlocked the door, pushing it open into the silent and empty house, turning back to the girl as the light cast a soft glow on his face as he smiled.

 

"You sure about this?" Charlene asked, glancing up at him through her dark lashes, her heart fluttering at the perfect smile across his lips.

 

"Come on." Scott said, grabbing her other hand as she smiled and pulled her inside as he closed the door with his foot and pushed her up against it. "My mom gets home at six."

 

They started making out, his tongue flicking against her's with urgency as he lifted her up and she locked her legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth. He held her close, his hands on her ass as her hands threaded themselves into his dark hair, gripping him tightly.

 

Scott moved her through his house, bumping into a few things but it didn't stop her from grinding against him as he groaned against her lips, finally making it to his bed room.

 

Charlene stripped off his shirt, her hands trailing down his dark and toned chest before they started kissing again, only breaking apart to remove her shirt as well.

 

Scott lowered her back onto the bed, kissing her slowly as they moved up and her straddled her. She leaned back, her hands gripping his belt as she hurriedly got it off, unbuttoning them next and pulling down the zipper. As she pulled his pants off the reveal his briefs he got hers off next, staring down at her creamy body that seemed pale in  
comparison to his darker complexion.

 

He kissed her again, pulling his briefs down enough so he could pull out his already hard cock as she pulled down her lace underwear, and he kissed down her neck as she moaned at the feeling of him at her entrance.

 

Scott pulled up slightly, both of them breathing heavily as he stared down at her. "Are you sure you want me to be your first?"

 

Him and Charlene didn't love each other or anything, but they had been dating for a while now, and they couldn't deny the sexual chemistry they felt around one another.

 

Charlene grinned up at him, a coy smile on her face despite the way she lay beneath him. "Are you sure you want me to be yours?"

 

When Scott grinned with a nod she smiled and leaned up to capture his lips again, and he slowly pushed into her warmth, trying not to hurt her in any way as he moaned softly.

 

"Are you okay?" He asked, seeing her eyebrows pinch together slightly before she opened her eyes and nodded.

 

"Yeah."

 

They both looked at each other, eyes hooded as he pulled out and pushed back into her, and she clenched around him as she tilted her head back and moaned, and he kissed her again.

 

She pulled back with a gasp as Scott grew worried, eyes wide. "What?"

 

She pulled her hand up, blood dripping down from her nose as it started to bleed and she looked up at him with wide eyes that matched his. "Charlene?"

 

Scott pulled out of her as Charlene started to convulse, her body seizing as she bit down on her tongue. Blood began pouring from her ears, eyes, and her nose, as Scott leaned over her, his eyes wide and frantic with fear and shock as he gripped her shoulders.

 

"Charlene? Charlene, Charlene, what's wrong?!"

 

Charlene made a gurgled sound as tears started streaming down Scott's cheeks, because yes, he's fucking always emotional about everything, and because his girlfriend was literally bleeding and jerking around uncontrollably beneath him.

 

"Charlene!" He screamed out, trying to stop her from moving as he cried. "Charlene!"

 

 

                                           -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

The train engine whistle blew as it echoed through Scott's ears as he watched the scenery go by. The green and different colors swirled together as he stared off into the distance, his face pressed against the window with a blank look.

 

It's a cliche. But like all cliches, it's the truth. Your life can change overnight. Or in a moment.

 

The official word on Charlene's death was a brain aneurysm. But the doctors had never seen anything quite like it before. The blood. All that blood.

 

His memory flicked back to a day ago when he had been lying in his bed, not moving as he cried silently and he mother sat next to him, running her dark finger through his hair.

 

"It's not your fault, baby." Melissa murmured to her son, her voice soft as she gave him a strained smile though he didn't return her gaze. "It's ours."

 

Scott looked up at her when she said that, hearing his mother's voice grow smaller and a bit strangled as his eyebrows furrowed.

 

"There's something I should have told you a long time ago. I prayed it would skip your generation."

 

He glanced over at his father who was staring down at his Federal agent badge that was in his hands, a solemn look on his tired face before he looked back at his mom.

 

"Your great-grandmother had the same genetic affliction. I was so sure that because you were a boy and that because I didn't have it that you would be fine. But I was wrong."

 

Scott sat up, moving backward from his mother and the way she was talking as she bit her lip, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as if to steady herself before looking at him and continuing. "There's a school there. A-a boarding school for people like you. You'll be safe."

 

Scott tried to forget about all the nonsense she was spewing as he tried to stop crying. "Your-your sending me away?"

 

"I'm sorry baby," Melissa cried softly, grasping Scott's cheeks as people began to move through the house. "We can't keep you here anymore. It's too dangerous."

 

Scott pulled her hands from his face, moving from the bed as he heard the footsteps before he saw them, watching as three large men entered the room, each dressed in black suits and shades as he stood. "What's going on?"

 

As the men got closer Scott looked to Melissa who had tears streaming down her cheeks as she put a hand over her mouth, trying not to sob. "Mom, what's going on? What is this? Mom!"

 

As soon as the first man grabbed him he sent a swift punch to his rib cage, earning the chance to turn back to his mother who did nothing but cry and watch as they man handled him into a hold. "Mom-no, what is this? Mom!"

 

Scott shouted out and thrashed against the men so all of them had to hold him as the dragged him out of the house, Melissa staying behind as she cried into her hands.

 

A sheer gloved hand appeared on her shoulder, a soft and reassuring voice at her ear. "We'll handle it from here."

 

Melissa turned to look at the bright red head with glasses; Natalie Snow, her eyes soft and kind as Melissa sobbed. "Can't I at least drive him to the station?"

 

Natalie shook her head, speaking calmly though firmly so that the crying woman would get the point. "He's our son now, Melissa. You've done all you can." Natalie moves around the woman, waving her hands about as she moves along. "A long goodbye would only make things worse."

 

She walks down the hallway that Scott had just been dragged through, finger gliding over the drapes covering her windows. "By the way, these drapes. I'm just mad for tartan."

 

Melissa watches as they disappear with her only son, clinging to her husband Mitchel when the door slams shut with an echoing hallow sound as she cries into the silence.

 

Scott pulls himself to the present, blinking as he looks to his lap and flips through the pages that the red headed lady in the row next to him gave him.

 

So, apparently he's a witch. And, not only girls can be witches like most people thought, but guys to it seems. Great, just what he needed in his fucking life.

 

It runs in his family, but it doesn't show up in every generation, or in every boy or girl. Like his cousin Amanda, she's just bulimic.

 

He faintly remembers reading about the Salem witch trails back in the fifth grade. Guess he should have paid more attention.

 

He flips through the pages, reading the old text aimlessly so he can keep his mind off the fact that his parents just gave him up.

 

He reads about a woman named Mercy Osbourne being sentenced to death for being a witch, skimming over the part where they hung and then burned her. Those girls and boys that they hung and burned weren't even witches. The real witches were cunning and careful not to be caught.

 

In fact after the killings started they got the hell out of Dodge. They fled. As far south as they could. That's how eventually New Orleans became the new Salem.

 

He glanced over at the witch who he now knew as Natalie Snow, the head of the Witches council. She had explained certain things to him, and left mostly everything out. Probably everything that he really needed to know.

 

Not too much time passed before they pulled up in front of Miss Robichaux's Academy, the car stopping as Scott exit's without a problem, one of the men in suits next to him and Natalie on his other side.

 

It was a large mansion within the heart of New Orleans, one with a large wrought iron fence that surrounded the entire home.

 

Scott stares up at it, feeling his skin tingle as he looks in awe. Then man places a suit case that his mother had packed hours before he had been taken on the ground beside him, and and now Scott wasn't sure that he even wanted what was in it.

 

Natalie stares at Scott from behind her shades before ringing the door bell which they could hear from where they were standing, a minor smile on her face as Scott just continued to stare on.

 

The gate suddenly swung open as if on its own accord, the sound terrible to Scott's ears though it was clear that it was used all the time. He glances over to question Natalie if she had just opened it, but when he looks, neither her or then man are there anymore. Or the car for that matter.

 

He ignores the fact that he knows for sure that he hadn't seen or heard it drive away as he turns back to the open gate. Knowing that he'd more than likely regret it later he grabs the suit case and sighs, stepping past the open gate. He walks up and into the house as he misses the gate slowly close shut behind him.

 

The door is already unlocked as he enters, glancing around when he hears nothing in the too large home. He closes it silently behind him as he looks around cautiously, taking a moment to admire the interior even though he's only in the foyer.

 

It's beautiful, long columns lining the inside, the walls white and trimmed with a design of an almost golden color. Hell, Scott wouldn't be surprised if it actually was gold.

 

"Hello?" He calls out, because hell yes he was the type of person to do that. To just call out into a seemingly empty home. He heard the door lock behind him and he tensed, not chancing a look back as he walked further. "Hello?"

 

The fire place is burning as he enters the main room, three beautiful chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. There was a very expensive beige designed rug covering the middle of the floor underneath some of the furniture, a white plain one under the piano in the far right corner.

 

Portraits lined the walls, some large and some smaller, each with a different face of a man or a woman. He stared at them for a moment, an eerie feeling creeping up his spine as he thought of those picture watching him.

 

He dropped the suit case with an echoing thud when he saw a figure pass through his peripheral, dressed in all black though he didn't see much else. Another one passed the same way as Scott walked closer, fists clenching as he prepared to fend them off if it was nothing good as he watched with wide dark eyes.

 

He rounded the corner he saw them go past, but when he saw nothing fear crawled beneath his skin as he glanced both ways to find nothing. He walked slowly back to the way he came in, passing it with little thought because he wanted to know what was going on.

 

He walked into the kitchen, wondering if he should grab one of those large sharp knives that seemed to be calling to him. He decided against it. He wasn't a killer. Or.... he didn't want to be.

 

He walked into the adjoining room, whipping around when he heard someone moving again, and he saw two figures in black move across the kitchen stealthily and he cursed, deciding to take a flight instead of fight as he maneuvered through the house, running toward the entrance.

 

He shouted bloody murder when a person with a black and white mask covering their face stepped in his way and blocked him from escaping, black draped over them with an adorning hood.

 

He nearly tripped as he turned to flee in the other direction, running as his assailant gained on him only to wish that he never set foot in this retched place as two more masked and clothed in black people came down a large staircase that led to two adjoining ones that he'd probably never get to set foot on.

 

Before he could react fast enough the one behind him pulled a tan sack over his head, cutting out his vision as everything went black. They dragged him as he thrashed, not managing to land anything that would help get him out of this before he was thrown back onto a hard wooden table.

 

His hands were held down by two different people on either side of him as he tried to break free, but to no avail. One of them climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs as his wrists screamed in pain, his mouth spewing profanities left and right.

 

The sack was lifted from his head and his head hit the table as he groaned, his dark eyes wide and his dark locks disheveled. There were candle lit behind his head as he looked to see his right assailant, the same black and white mask, then to his left to see an all black one. He glared up to the person on top of him, their red mask creeping him out the most as they leaned closer.

 

"O dark father, we offer this flesh up to you, blood, life and all." A deep male voice said from behind the mask, and Scott shouted at him, saying nothing really but slurs as his heart pounded in his chest, slamming into his rib cage painfully.

 

The red masked man raised an ancient ritualistic carving knife, and Scott tried not to freeze in fear as he he watched with wide eyes, fear glazing them.

 

The man brings the knife down as Scott screams, "Get the hell off me!"

 

The candles blew out at the power and ring of Scott's voice and all three masked people moved back, the one with the red mask removing their hood and mask to reveal their face. The fire place went out too, ashes flying out in a gust from the loss of the flame as Scott drew his knees to his chest.

 

"Jesus, Sabrina, relax." The guy who had just taken off the red mask said, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair as he rolled his eyes. "We're just messing with you."

 

Scott ignored the obvious witch term as he tried to calm down, slowly but surely recognizing who was standing before him. "Holy shit, are you-"

 

"Jackson Whittemore," The guy said with a smirk, his eyes filled with mischief, his face smug. "Movie star."

 

"Shit." The person next to him spoke up, her voice hard as she pulled back her black and white mask with her hood, revealing an equally hard though pretty face. "When's the last time you made a movie?"

 

The other person removed their mask last, a soft smile on her Asian face, dimples popping from her cheeks. Scott had to admit that she was prettier. "Hi, I'm Kira."

 

"Scott." He said instantly, though he still wasn't over the whole "fake sacrifice" shit that just occurred not minutes ago.

 

"Malia," The other girl added, snapping gum in her mouth that Scott hadn't noticed she had as she looked at him with disinterest.

 

"So bored now," Jackson muttered, letting his mask clatter carelessly to the ground as he kicked it away.

 

"So... is this all of you?" Scott asked hesitantly, realizing that if this was everyone than he might never find his true place in this world.

 

"At the moment." A new voice said and they all looked to the entrance of the room, watching as a man entered, his whiskey eyes kind, his suit sharp.

 

The others looked at the man with weary eyes as Scott stared at him. He couldn't be more than four or five years older than him, though his pale mole speckled face showed the knowledge of many more years than he had lived. Probably knowledge that no one should ever be burdened with.

 

"Stiles Argent, headmaster." The man introduced himself, his long pale fingers clasped together in front of him with a smile that Scott reflected as he got off the table and stood straight.

 

Stiles turned to the others, eyes hardening even though watching what they did to Mr.McCall was in fact funny. "All right, there's a van full of groceries in the driveway that needs unloading. I'll show Scott to his room, and then we meet for Midday Gathering."

 

Jackson, Malia, and Kira groaned together, but nonetheless complied, not wanting Stiles to get upset as they moved and headed out the front door, Stiles' heavy gaze remaining on the new arrival.

 

Stiles smiled at him kindly and Scott wondered how long he would be able to survive in this place as he followed the headmaster out of the room, his thoughts dwindling to nothing.

 

                                                    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
